Two sides to every story
by hopelessfangirl
Summary: Cato is always portrayed at the bad guy, the brutal monster, but that doesn't mean he is. Just trying to look at things from a different perspective. May become a Cato/Katniss fic. Hope you enjoy, may the odds be ever in your favour.
1. Chapter 1

Cato's POV

I try to make my mind as clear and blank as the face of the dummy I am facing across the room from me, about 20 meters. I take in a deep breath and hurl the spear towards it. It's natural, almost effortless, watching with satisfaction as it buries itself deep within the bulls-eye on its chest. I feel myself swell with pride, not bad, I think to myself,

"Not bad at all." My thoughts are echoed by someone walking towards me, I hadn't known I'd had an audience. I turn to face my, my what? We aren't encouraged to have friends here, but he is more than an acquaintance or contemporary, he's a year younger than me and, I suppose, in a different world without the hunger games, we would be friends.

"Dammit Rufus! Don't sneak up on me like that"

"It's not my fault you're so unobservant" He quipped back, "You're going to need to keep your guard up more if you don't want someone to creep up on you during the games. Don't want to get a dagger in your back."

I turn around and he's holding a sword in one hand, another offered out to me. We aren't meant to engage in hand to hand combat without supervision, but that was when we were still too out of control and risked seriously hurting ourselves and each other, before we new when to stop. I'm still bad at that, I can't distance myself from the fray. Fighting Rufus is alright, we move well together, anticipating each others moves. The sword is an extension of my arm, with it I am completely deadly, not that I am exactly safe without it. But the sword is my weapon of choice. There is almost an art to the way I use it.

We duel, staying relaxed, his calm releases my own tension. With other people I still struggle to keep my cool, my focus. I get angry and if they strike me it becomes personal. I am regularly told that this is my greatest weakness. My grudge holding, the vendettas I have for those who have bettered me. I have lost friends like that. But that isn't as important as ambition. I am driven. I am motivated. I have skills and I know how to use them and my abilities will bring me home from the games and earn my name a place in the legacy of District 2 victors. I will not be passive like Rufus, that is a sign of weakness itself. Even now I clench my teeth as we dance around each other, I am forcing him back, he is moving defensively. You cannot win the games by being defensive. I trip him, and as he stumbles, surprised, I wrench the sword from his grip and push him down to the ground. I have won. Even in an informal, friendly fight with my friend I still feel my competitive side revel in the glory of victory. Not just my success, but my not failing. Failure brought shame and punishment. From simple things like having to do the cleaning of the grimy building, to harsh beatings that left welts across your back for days and burnt when you moved. You would have let down your trainer, and your family who paid for you to be here. For that you would not be allowed out, or to communicate with them. But the system was fair; it worked the other way too. From when we joined the academy we were taught that success in any way was to be rewarded, even if we got in a fight outside of training, going well in it deserved praise. We would be given extra food, more time to relax, greater freedoms, the chance to visit our families my little sister- No. I will not think about that. That has to be earned, and it will be, by my winning the games. This is my year.

"I'm volunteering this year," I say aloud

"I know."

I have to volunteer, it's what I've been training for, I don't really know what else I would do. I'm not cut out to be a stonemason, I suppose if I didn't become a tribute I would join the peacekeeping force, serving the Capitol and Panem. Not my scene. Next year Rufus will volunteer, hopefully I'll be there to see him compete and win.

"Cato, are you," He pauses, uncertain how to go on, "are you nervous?"

The question catches me off guard, it's not the type of thing the trainers like us to talk about, they like us to discuss training and winning and tactics and the glory. I hadn't even thought about it much,

"Yeah." I hear myself saying, "I mean, I'm going to do it, because what else is there?"

Rufus doesn't answer, he just looks at me with his head on one side. I feel the need to talk, to explain, to let it all out and the words start coming before I can stop them,

"For me, I don't know what else I would do with myself if I wasn't a tribute. And I don't want to die, so I have to win. And that's what it's all been for hasn't it? The past eleven years, the past eighteen years really, this is what it's been for. Preparing me to volunteer." I am talking more to myself now, "That's what I am, this is my career, to train hard, to compete well, to be crowned victor and bring honour to me, to district 2. It's a bit pathetic if I don't win to be honest, this is the only thing I can do." I lose myself in my thoughts when Rufus playfully punches my shoulder, pulling me back down to reality,

"Course you'll win Cato!" He gives me a genuine smile, "Get ready for the reaping now, you want to look good for the cameras"

By now we had wondered out of the gym and to the changing room.

"See you at the square" I call out to him as he leaves.

I strip off and get in the shower, at first no water comes at all and then when it does it is cold. I wonder what it will be like in the Capitol. District 2 is one of the wealthier districts, and even here people still go without; obviously people don't starve, not like the animals who live in the outer districts, but it's hard, especially for those who aren't going to be victors. We have to be fed well to keep up our strength and kept in excellent health. At the academy there is always heating and running water, though both can be temperamental. Not all kids go to the academy; first off your family have to be rich. Rich enough to afford to not have your kid work, and also rich enough to pay. All across Panem school is free and compulsory, where we learn the history of our nation and important things about our district and how to be better citizen, we still have that here of course, but it takes a back-seat, it's more important that we will be good tributes. I've been here since I was seven; at eleven, and then again at fourteen loads of children get kicked out, the ones who are weak, physically and emotionally. People don't want to leave, but sometimes someone will drop out. They can't handle the intense training or the punishments for losing, or their families can no longer afford to send them. There are only 5 boys left who joined with me, they will become peace-keepers, after all, that's what this academy is officially for, training soldiers. But we use it to prepare to be tributes, technically we aren't supposed to, but the Capitol don't care. As long as they get their peace-keepers and good crop of tributes for an interesting game they don't care at all I think with bitterness.

Once I've dried off I get dressed in my reaping clothes, they are smart and expensive, I doubt anyone else will be as well-dressed as I am. It's hardly worth the effort of getting done up when you know you won't make it on to the stage. For a brief moment I wonder what it must be like to be one of them. Weak and vulnerable to attack, but they aren't attacked. They just go through their lives; hunting no one, hunted by no one. "Being no one." I hear the voice of my trainer in my head. I will be famous, people will chant my name and love me, I will do something, be someone, bring pride and honour to my district, because that is what matters. That is what being alive is about. I square my shoulders and head out to the reaping, already I can feel adrenaline coursing through my veins. I, and all the others from the academy know what will happen today. Within an hour I will be the male tribute representing district 2 in the 74th Annual Hunger Games.

I am ready.

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Hi everyone. This is my first upload, so please let me know what you think. Any reviews would be massively appreciated. I think this might turn into a Catoniss fic. Just because I like Cato, and think that even though he is a big and brutal, he must have his own story to tell. I also think their relationship was so dynamic and they had a lot of chemistry, in the books and the film, so I thought I would try and tap that potential. But please let me know if you think that this is good or have any ideas. Thankyou


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

It's baking hot as we stand in groups according to our age. Some of the boys around me look a little nervous, others eager. None of them will go to the arena, that honour is mine. I am aware as I listen to the speeches of the glory of Panem that this is the last time I will see district 2 as an ordinary citizen. This is the last time I will stand among the ordinary people on reaping day. These are my last moments where the people of district two, of the Capitol, of Panem will not know my name, my face, my strengths. Soon I will go from being Cato, the big guy who is always training, to Cato Taurius, District two's male tribute and Victor of the 74th Annual Hunger Games. The next time I am here I will on my victory tour. I will be sitting on the stage alongside the mentors and other former victors. I will have brought riches and pride to my district. I can't wait. Finally everything I have been working for, training for, living for will happen. I will prove myself worthy. I know that from this moment forth everything I do must be tactical, sponsors will be watching me volunteer and the capitol will follow my every move. I already have my angle, well, it's hardly even an angle. Exude confidence; show off strength. I do this anyway. Naturally my size and ability are key things to play up. This is my future and it helps that I already have a reputation for being ferocious and ruthless, am from district two, and look the part. They don't call us careers for nothing.

"Ladies first!" trills the ridiculous woman sent by the Capitol to be our escort, she has blue feathers in her hair and I wonder how she can pull out the slips of paper with her painted, bird-like talons.

"Rebecca Stone" Something about this woman reminds me of a bird of prey. The way her unnaturally yellow eyes rake the lines of girls for the tribute she has reaped. Before the shaking blonde I assume is Rebecca can make it on to the stage there is a volunteer. I recognise her as another student from the academy, a couple of years younger than me, Clove. This is not a surprise, even though she was not officially chosen to volunteer this year; there were girls of my age who were at the academy, traditionally this is the age to volunteer, it makes sense, the extra years of preparation pay off. And the Capitol prefer their victors to be older, more independent. But I have seen this girl train. She's good. Better than many if not all of the other girls. She will make a valuable ally and a worthy adversary, I muse as she takes her place. But not good enough to be a serious threat to me.

"Wonderful, wonderful!" I try to remember the escort's name, Clarissa? Marisa?

"Now are there any other brave young ladies who would like to take this opportunity for the honour representing district 2?"

Clove stands on the stage, chin up eyes forward, silently daring anyone to steal her chance. If there is more than one volunteer then it becomes complicated. The mayor and escort usually sort it out, but it is time consuming, and I am impatient to begin. No one does come forward and she moves on to the boys. I can feel the tension in me. This is it.

"And this year's male tribute is Alexander Sa-"

"I volunteer!" I cry out before she has even finished reading his name. I'm aware that even for a tribute from the academy it's keen, but it can't hurt to make an impression. As I march forward, the crowd parts before me until I am standing on the stage beside Clove and the escort, Narcissa I realise her name is.

"And are there any other volunteers?"

There aren't. Of course there aren't. It was decided almost immediately after last year's reaping that I would be tribute this year. Really it was decided much before that. Just as next year it will be Rufus, part of me wants to look out the at the crowd and meet his eye, but no. I am a tribute now. I keep my gaze steady and cool as I stare above them, knowing the cameras can see me, yet I can hardly repress a smirk. I know how I must look to them, the Sponsors in the Capitol, the other tributes who will watch the recording. I am proud and I am strong, I am a born and built for this. My body alone is one of the most dangerous weapons that will be in the arena. My size is emphasised by the smallness of my female counter-part. Yet despite her size, I know she is formidable and the cameras will see it too. Alone we are forces to be reckoned with. Together we will be lethal.

"Congratulations, and what is your name?"

"Cato Taurius" Not that it needs saying. People know who I am. When she asks if there are any more volunteers I know there won't be. There's a simple reason for this. No one here is as good as me. I was chosen by the trainers at the academy to volunteer because I am the best. Not that I would have listened to them if they had told me I couldn't. It's more than just pride. As Rufus always tells me, it's personal. I need this, to prove that I am the best, knowing it isn't enough; I need everyone else to know it too. I want it all, the comfortable victors home, the fame, the money, the acknowledging of the fact I deserve this. I have given everything to this. It's what I have been trained for, it's all I know and all I'm good for. And I am good for it. That is why I don't glare out at the audience when she asks like Clove did.

"Our Tributes, Cato Taurius and Clove Scelera!" The whole district is cheering and shouting our names, clapping and whooping. I bask in it and allow myself to see their faces. Some of them I recognise from passing, others from training, Rufus is smiling up at me. I see my little sister, Aura, sitting on my father's shoulders; she's ten, waving her chubby hand at me and I know that she will be proud of me. My father is nodding: this is what he expects. His father was a victor of one of the earliest Hunger Games, as was my aunt on my mother's side. I know that wherever she is now she is proud of me. Neither of them competed. My mother hadn't wanted to, I never asked her why, though she said it was something to do with her sister. My father hadn't been good enough, but he made sure his son was. He's like me, he won't give up, only he failed, we both know I won't. He thinks I'm winning this for both us. But it's me who is going in there, and it is me that will be victor.

I shake hands with Clove, our eyes meet for a second as we size each other up. I allow myself another smirk and she returns it with a dangerous glint in her eye.

I like this one.

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Hi, I'm still not 100% sure where I'm going with this, so if you have any ideas please let me know. I'm sorry if there are any spelling/gramatical errors, I do my best but still... I hope you enjoy this :)


	3. Chapter 3

As the train speeds towards the Capitol I think of the few goodbyes I said; just my trainer, my father, Aura and Rufus. I don't really have anyone else that I care about. It's difficult to form attachment to people when you spend all you time in training and know that any friendship you have will become strained when you are a victor and spend time in the Capitol. Not that I mind, I don't really want friends. They are a weakness; you form attachment and let your guard down. You should never do that; it leaves you open to manipulation and clouds your vision. It took me time but I can almost completely cut myself off, even around Aura, I can switch off. No emotion can break down my barriers, my trainer says rage can, but he's wrong, rage enhances it. Enhances me. If I can channel my anger it makes me stronger, but the others I can do without. Obviously I'll miss them a bit, but it's not like I won't be seeing them soon. And they will be able to watch me compete, so it doesn't matter.

I stretch out on one of the luxurious sofas to watch the replay of our reaping, to size up the competition and see what sort of an impression I made. Clove sits beside me and watches the district one tributes with disgust. Both have been through a training academy, but theirs in one isn't as good as ours in two. District 3 is not a threat. A chubby merchant's son and pathetic fourteen year old girl. Four is interesting, there was no male volunteer and the girl was big, but I don't think she'd be much of a match for Clove. I study the girl next to me. I know that she is skilled in hand to hand combat and can throw a spear relatively well though she isn't big enough to handle an axe or mace, but none of that matters. She uses knives. She can get a bulls-eye on a moving target from 15 meters when throwing and when armed is formidable. She meets my gaze unblinking,

"Looking at something?" her voice is soft now, but I know she can be brutal

"I was just thinking how good you'd be as an ally, and how long they" I gesture to the TV screen currently showing district 6, "Would stand against you"

She gives me smile, we have a weird sort of friendship, knowing that soon we will be trying to kill each other, but having trained and lived together for the past years. Despite her being a girl and in a different age group to me we did get on well. She was the only person at the academy who was as dedicated, as driven as me, it is a shame she is competing the same year as me, otherwise she might well have won.

"Well," she says carefully, "I doubt many of them would last that long, but district one's worth keeping around, wouldn't you say?" She's right on both counts, they wouldn't last long against us, but the girl is good-looking and will have a lot of sponsors and the boy looks strong enough. We can keep them around until they outlive their usefulness. Maybe one of them could take out Clove, it's unlikely that they'd manage it, but I don't particularly want to kill my district partner. She's good fun once you know how to deal with her.

I glance at the screen, noting that the district 11 boy is huge, almost as big as me, but I'm bored of watching now, and go to get myself a snack when Clove calls me back.

"Cato, you're going to want to see this!" She sounds surprised, which is odd because Clove doesn't get surprised, nor do I, they trained it out of us. I wonder back over to her to see what's happened.

"There's been a volunteer" She says, eyeing me carefully to measure my reaction, "From district 12" she pronounces each syllable carefully. I won't deny I'm curious. What kind of an idiot…? I rewind back to the start of the reaping. God it looks bleak there, the outlying districts are a disgrace. A tiny blonde girl is walking up to stage, she looks scared, terrified. She looks a bit like Aura, but before I can note the similarity the cameras swing around to a tall scrawny girl with dark hair, she looks panicked as she volunteers, pushing the girl behind her and stepping forward. Turns out she was volunteering for her sister. Idiot. Fine so she's saved her sister, but it's still a death sentence. The commentators are talking about her bravery and caring and honour and how special she is as the first outlying volunteer, how the sponsors will be tripping over themselves to bet on the underdog. How she will make this year interesting and special. I seethe. How dare she? My bold, confident action has been overlooked by her pathetic little attempt to be self-sacrificing. Urgh. I look to Clove and can tell she is thinking the same as I am.

"Don't worry Cato, we won't lose any sponsors to her, they might think her stupidity is cute, but no one will bet on her." She rests her hand on mine. I hadn't realised I'd been clenching my fists. "Everyone will forget all about them at the opening ceremony, she will be completely outshone and the Capitol will see her for what she is; an underfed, simple, district 12 girl with no chance in hell of winning. They won't even notice she's there." By now I can tell she is talking mainly to herself, but the concept is comforting nonetheless.

Having arrived in the Capitol we are made ready for the opening ceremony. This year we are dressed as Romans, I have a white skirt thing and my chest is bare, bronzed and oiled. The dressing up is ridiculous, but it needs doing for sponsors, and for the world to see us at our best. I am wearing a gold wreath on my head, and have thick bands around my arms. I don't actually see how this relates to masonry, but that's all a bit of a joke. I look like I am a victor already as we stand on the chariot that pulls us out to a screaming crowd. They are chanting for district 2, I can hear my name being cried out. I fell a rush of euphoria. This. If this is what it feels like to compete, winning must be glorious. The chariot pulls us forward, the people pushing forward to get closer to me, to catch a glimpse of me. In front I can see the jewel encrusted district one tributes waving and I do the same. Everyone I make eye-contact with melts. I can't help but smile, these people love me. Adore me. Suddenly they all scream and I wonder what has happened. The people are pointing back and I want to turn to see, but that is not dignified. Instead I look up at the giant screens, they have cut to the district twelve tributes. Who are burning. They are actually on fire. Trails of flame fly out from behind them and they have captivated the cameras and the crowd. People are calling out for them. They are even holding hands, it's sick. Don't they realise that soon they will be trying to kill each other? Why are they all buddy-buddy now? I try to ignore them, but can sense for the whole opening ceremony that Clove beside me is livid. When we re-enter the training centre the obnoxious flickering stops and as my own prep-team congratulates me on my performance I ignore them. Yes it was alright, no thanks to them. Why couldn't my stylist do something dramatic or memorable? Over with twelve they are all gushing about what an impact they made.

"Lets see how lovely she looks when I've slit her throat." Spits clove beside me. She too was giving them a look of pure loathing. With an entrance like that they will have attracted sponsors. I nod and take a step towards them, "Cato stop. You don't want do anything that will get you kicked out" she hisses. I pause and as I do the girl can sense someone looking at her and turns. I clench my jaw. Resisting the urge just to snap her neck like a twig. She sees me looking and though her face is a mask she pales a little and her eyes show fear. Clove smirks and I fold my arms. Her mentor sees us and hurry them away. That's right. You can run away and hide behind others now but soon it will just be us in the arena. Then where will you hide?


	4. Chapter 4

I see the blood before I actually register the pain. I try and focus on it to calm myself. When fire girl got an eleven I crushed the glass I had been holding. I try to focus on pulling the pieces of glass out of my hands. On the sting when I move my fingers. On the blood that was running down my arms and dripping on to the carpet. But all I can see is the number 11 flashing up on the screen. All I can think of is that she did better than me. The only thing occupying my mind is how that girl has been a thorn in my side since she volunteered and now I am blaming her for the gashes on my palms. At least I took it better than Clove, I can pass of my own reaction as shock. She let out an ungodly howl of rage and after literally tipping a table went to go and shout at Enobria, one of our mentors. I can still hear her next door. I have had an extra two years to try and supress this kind of outburst, and I'm struggling. I am as angry as she is, I just deal with it in a better, more dignified manner. Firey Miss Everdeen. I can't even remember what her skills are. I was too busy perfecting my own skills, impressing the game-makers and intimidating the other tributes, keeping an eye of districts 1 and 4 to see if they can make our alliance. Ensuring I was the best. Apparently that title is not mine. But how? There is nothing she can be better than me at. Yeah I think she spent a while at camouflage and edible plants and knot-tying. But that doesn't impress the game-makers, they don't care, they want a fight. This is what I do. This is what I have trained for, lived for, prepared for. This is the only thing I'm good at and the fact an underfed, un-trained girl from the worst part of the worst district has bettered me is crippling. What am I good at then? My mind wonders through this dark place until an avox comes in and looks wide-eyed at the blood and glass around me. I spare them a dirty look before going into my room for a shower.

I try to avoid dwelling on her eleven before the interviews. I need to be at the top of my game. This is my last chance to win sponsors, sponsors that may have found a different recipient. I'm not nervous when Caesar Flickerman calls me on. I stride on boldly and smile out at the audience, they love me and I know it, I can't help but smirk, they are wrapped right around my little finger. We talk about my size, and my good looks and my formidable skills and my ten. We talk about my volunteering and the honour for representing district 2 and of winning. The crowd love my confidence. They love me. I come away feeling proud and ready.

"What the hell was that? First you don't talk to me then you say you have crush on me?" The sound of angry raised voices drift through to me where I am sitting. Trying to convince me that the scum of district twelve have not out-shone me again. Even if they have gained sponsors with their stupid little lovers routine, that will irrelevant once they are both dead. The smash of a vase and the thud of someone being pushed to the wall stir me from my reverie and I go to have a look. If there's a fight I don't want to miss all the fun, especially as it's my two least favourite tributes. It looks like lover-girl didn't like the announcement, I smirk to myself, their little ploy to get sponsors had worried me, it had looked like she felt the same way for him, but judging by her current behaviour, that's unlikely. Him on the other hand? Their mentor comes in and breaks them up, its all a ploy, he explains, a cunning way of gaining more sponsors, because what kind of rich stupid capitol citizen wouldn't eat up a tragic star-crossed lovers story between the desirable fire-girl and her doting lover-boy. It's good as far as getting sponsors at the start is concerned. But I thought she was cleverer than that, to open herself up to a competitor, maybe she really doesn't want to go home. I'm musing this as I go towards the elevator when I hear someone coming after me. I turn around and see lover-girl, she's still seething from the encounter she just had and apparently wants to take it out on me.

"So you think it's ok to just listen in on other people's conversations?" she spits at me

"Please," I smirk, "I would hardly call it a conversation, looks like someone for got the rules about fighting before the arena. And it's not listening in if everyone in the capitol can hear your little hissy fit." These words get the reaction I desire, she tries to shove me but I expect it and remain unyielding, as she falls against my chest.

"Tut tut, Firegirl, or is it lover-girl? What would your little friend say if he saw us now?"

"Shut up. You shut up about Peeta or I'll-" Her anger and threats are real, but I've had my fun. I've established that she cares enough about him for her to be weak and physically is no problem.

"You'll what?" It's a clichéd line, but has the desired effect as I allow all the emotion to rush out of me and I cut myself off squaring up for a fight. She recognises the change instantly and backs down.

"Nothing. But I'm not 'lover girl' or anything. It was all part of his stupid plan to get sponsors. It wasn't my idea."

"Good." She looks confused at this, "I didn't think you were an idiot, so it's nice to know that you think the plan is stupid too and you have no part in it. I would hate for someone I thought was a worthy adversary to be weak and foolish enough to indulge in some 'star crossed lover' nonsense"

She opens her mouth to argue back, but closes it again slowly, maybe because she is still intimidated by me, maybe because she thinks I'm right. She gives me a look of mistrust before a cool, blank mask I recognise as the face I present to the world when I need to focus or whatever in my head is private, I'm curious as to what she's hiding, but don't bother waiting to find out. I don't particularly care, I slowly allow myself to lose any interest I had in the past encounter, she and her lover-boy's plans are irrelevant to my winning. She'll be dead in a couple of weeks at most, no point worrying about her.

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I'm sorry this chapter is so short and has taken so long considering it's quite underwhelming. First proper introduction to Katniss, I'm trying to keep her as she was in the books. please review what you think of the characters (theres not too much story actually going on right now, i'm sorry) and let me know if you have any suggestions or think something needs tweaking. Thanknyou to everyone who's read this and extra big special thanks to those who've reviewed it :)


	5. Chapter 5

The engines of the hovercraft that takes us to the arena drone softly. The 23 other tributes and myself are strapped into comfortable chairs while 2 Capitol minders prepare trackers and ensure we don't try and start fighting or anything early. Our stylists are already there, or at least they will be soon, they went in an earlier hover-craft. Everyone has said their final good-bye to their mentor, or course, mine wasn't a final good-bye. We both knew I would be coming out of this. This is the part of the games they don't tell you about. Just sitting here, waiting, as we rock slightly with the motion of the craft. I take this opportunity to get a proper look at the tributes around me. From one, there is the pretty girl from one who isn't that talented, Glimmer, but will attract sponsors and is part of our alliance off the strength of her district partner, Marvel. He isn't much of a match for me, but is still fast and strong and deadly with a spear or axe. My own district partner, Clove Scelera, she catches me looking at her and smiles before continuing to crack each of her knuckles individually. The tributes from 4 are alright. The girl, Mariana, is talented with knives and a spear, as well as being quick and physically strong. The boy, Pisces, we can do without. Nothing interesting to be said of district 5 or 8. The boy from 6 gained a 7 in training, so cannot be overlooked. As did the tiny dark girl from 11, Rea I think her name is. She looks nervous, and no wonder, little thing like her won't be competition for anybody no matter what her score. She is looking around but no one makes eye contact, which is hardly surprising at this stage. No one is interacting now, it's too tense. The boy from 11 is a distinct threat, physically he is a match for me. But while he may be larger, I am more skilled and experienced, my ten was well earned. I know that the district twelve girl is a threat. I have no idea how she got her 11, but it must have been good. I already know she's clever, and with their little lover act they can manipulate sponsors in the Capitol. The plan will be to take out lover boy so she loses sponsors and then try to get her at the cornucopia. Most importantly not to let her get her hands on a weapon.

Suddenly the hovercraft swings violently and the lights flicker. The tension, already palpable, becomes almost overwhelming. The craft now seems jerky in the air, where before it had been smooth, the engines' whine sounds more forced and noticeable. The other tributes are looking about in panic, we were not told to expect this. The capitol assistant opens a hatch to the cock-pit to see what's happening. As the door slides open I can see little lights blinking and the sound of the static you would get when you turned the TV on but there was no connection. The breathing of the district 2 tribute beside me sharpens. No need to worry. The Capitol know what they are doing. Of course they do.

As I think this is suddenly goes silent. Not the silence before of the engines and 24 children's nervous breath and clicking of some Capitol citizens heeled shoes. A deadly silence when the engines have stopped despite us being high in the air. When the Capitol attendant has left us through a sliding metal door. When every tribute barely dares to breathe. Beside me I can feel Cloves tension. And now everyone is shooting worried glances about them. I feel a lurch in my stomach as we lose the momentum carrying us forward. Despite being strapped in we are jerked about in our seats: the District ten tribute's head snaps back with the sudden movement, his head hits the metal wall behind him with a sickening crack and he slumps forward, held upright by the safety straps. After years of fighting experience I know he won't move again. One down 22 to go.

His district partner starts screaming and it cuts through the silence, she starts to try and undo her own safety-belt. Idiot. If he can't survive when strapped in what hope does she have? She's screaming and crying as she struggles with shaking hands to free herself. No one moves. No one can look away from his head, lolling on his chest like a cut marionette. No one can speak or stops her as she breaks loose. We all just stare, speechless. This is not normal. This is not to be expected. This is not going according to plan. Once unrestrained she falls to her hands and knees and crawls towards the back of the carrier, being thrown helplessly from side to side as the hover-craft lurches. When she starts struggling with the heavy safety hatch at the back the tension snaps.

As she tries to use all her weight to open it she is suddenly restrained by another tribute, fire-girl, she pinions her arms to her sides and forces her on to the ground. Still no one speaks. No one can think what to say. The girl from 8 is crying quietly and the boy from 9 looks like he is going to be sick as the dead tribute's body is thrown against his.

"What do you think you're doing" Her voice is shaking a little but she forces it steady as the other girl struggles pitifully against her and cries. Fire-girl will be good in the arena.

"You open that hatch and this craft will crash and we go down with it. Do you want to kill us all?" She asks harshly. The other girl just cries harder.

I am afraid to breathe. I hadn't thought about that. This craft can't go down. We, the tributes of Panem are in it. It is a capitol ship. Even as I try to convince myself of this I am aware that one of the tributes is dead before the games begin, and there is no capitol attendant with us now. Just red lights, glowing above the safety hatch at the back and cock-pit entrance at the front. I can feel my own heart begin to beat faster, pumping adrenaline through my veins as I try to think. There is another sudden heave and fire-girl is thrown off 10, who sees her chances and lunges at the hatch. It flies open and the girl is sucked out into the blue sky around us. It is suddenly winding and there is a roaring in my ears, but that could be anything, the rush of the air being pulled out or the screaming and wailing of the other tributes or when sirens that are now blaring. I expect to see fire-girl being thrown out of the gaping door as well, but she had the good sense of grab on to something and lover-boy had heaved her to safety. Maybe it wasn't all an act then, I can't be sure. One thing I am certain of is the fact that we inexplicably losing height and now the sirens and lights have gone out. The craft veers horribly to the right as we lose the momentum carrying us forward, and begin to fall out of the sky.

* * *

I'm sorry this has taken so long. Writing AU is considerably harder that I had given it credit for. I hope you don't but I figured I'd have to move away from cannon if I want Kato to happen, which I do. I'd also like to say a massive thankyou to Nicole for checking it (blame her if its rubbish :) Andy for putting up with me complaining about this whole story and Emma, because she's fabulous. please review and I promise to update sooner next time :)


	6. Chapter 6

Hi guys. I'm back. I'm sorry I left it so long. I'm also sorry for the factual inaccuracies in the previous chapter. I don't know a lot about aviation, and you're going to notice that in this one too. Please read and I hope you enjoy. Sorry it was so long coming

* * *

My stomach seems to stay still up in the clouds while the rest of my body, strapped in to the hovercraft begins to drop. I feel like I am in one of those short films they show us about the war. Where everything is moving slowly but in such high definition I can see everything and hear everything and my mind is racing.

There is screaming from the other tributes and crying, and the roar of the wind that fills the cabin from the open door. The air has twisted the door off and anything that was not held down has flown out. I can hear my own blood tearing through my veins and feel the harness holding me in digging into my flesh at my body strains against it and I hang on because this is not how it is meant to be. This is fear, I cannot win this. Strapped into a tin can that is falling out of the air. We are turning and twisting in the air and I want to be sick so I close my eyes and I can feel bruises forming because these harnesses were not meant for this. I try to brace myself for the impact that must inevitably come but there is no gravity and nothing will help me and somewhere in all the noise I know I am crying and I try to protect my head with my arms but we were never told about this. My head is pounding so hard it makes my teeth hurt and I am crying but I don't know if it is the fear or the pain or the desperation. But I don't want to die. And I know I am about to.

The impact of us hitting the ground sends reverberations through me that feel like my bones are shattering. It throws my body back ain my seat and there is the sound of metal being torn and stretched. I want to be sick. My head is spinning and the craft has hit the ground but I feel like I am still falling or watching myself from a very long way off, through a dark tunnel. Yet somehow I am moving, as if in a dream.

My head is pounding so hard it makes my eyes water and sets my teeth on edge; my safety belt is cutting into my chest, and I try and sit up independently of it but find that an attempt to sets my mind reeling, any attempt to look around me makes my stomach lurch and everything is blurred and distorted. I can hear crying. At least, I think I can hear crying. Everything sounds like it is a very long way away. I screw my eyes shut and take a deep breath. I can fight through this, I can feel that I have sustained no serious injuries, there is something hot and sticky on my arm, but I cannot tell if the congealed blood is mine or someone-else's. I exhale, I will give myself 10 seconds to recover, 10 seconds to indulge in the luxury of self-pity and then I will get up and assess the damage to myself and find out what has happened and what will happen next.

10,9,8,7,6,5,4,3,2,1.

Ok.

I make all my movements slow and measured, I think I may be concussed because the world is still swimming and pitching like a boat on the sea. Some people are still slumped motionless in their seats, whether they are dead or simply knocked out I can't tell. Others have already begun to pick themselves up, in various states and try to leave. There is still crying, wailing, I don't know what it is, but it doesn't help my headache. I need to get out of this hovercraft, I need clean air and someone to come and tell us what to do.

My numb fingers struggle with the safety clasps and once they are off I cannot immediately stand, and I fall to my knees on the steel floo. I try to get up, but the thing I grabbed hold of to pull myself is soft and floppy and I try to focus my gaze on it, but I don't need to see it to recognise that what it had been; a human arm, disconcertingly limp and lifeless, I let it drop and feel myself recoil in disgust, an instinctive reaction. I don't know if the District three tribute to which the arm belongs is actually dead or just knocked out, but I don't want to. I just want to get out, go back the way things are meant to be.

I must not slow down. Others around me are doing the same, I don't waste my time looking at them as I stagger towards the exit. Even though there are only 10 of us there is a lot of noise. Sobbing and wailing, I don't know how they are managing it, I am still winded from when we landed. And above it all someone is yelling to get out. Get out now. As I try to get out I try to grab what was the door frame and slice my hand but I keep moving. Someone is helping someone else, probably their district partner, where is Clove? I cast about for her, but I am blocking the exit and am shoved roughly through by someone. Normally I wouldn't tolerate it, but now I don't care. Something somewhere has caught fire, there is black smoke coming from one side of the craft. Thick and stinking. I try to rush out of the craft to the open, clean air but someone has grabbed me and is holding me back.

"District 2." He says, it is the big tribute from 11. "Help me."

His huge frame has been trapped by a bit of dented metal. I don't know why he thinks I will help him, I have spent the last 12 years training to kill him, but he's struggling, because his arm is caught and he can't move it on his own. I think about it for what seems like hours but is in fact only a split second. Obviously this crash meant everything had changed. And if I didn't help 11 out I would be leaving him to die, but if I did help him, regardless of whether or not we went into the games, he would be in my debt. Then again, I would it be regarded as weak to help him.

"Please?" I don't know why I am doing this, but I wrap my arms around his body and pull. He cries out in agony, something I did obviously went wrong. Shit. This is nothing I was ever trained for. Killing other tributes, trapping them, letting them die. That I can do in a hundred different ways, but now I am going against everything I was ever taught, risking myself to help pull someone out, save them. Maybe I hit my head when we landed, maybe I should go outside and wait for someone from the Capitol to tell us what to do. But I am using my shoulder to lift a piece of the debris that was trapping him. I can feel it cutting into my shoulder. My eyes are watering from the smoke and I can hear him coughing. If we don't get out we will both die.

People are shouting still and I can hardly breath from the smoke. I can feel the air, it is hot from the fire at the other end of the craft but when I try to move my legs won't listen to me. Then someone has my arm and is leading me out. I let them. District 11 maybe? I don't know. I don't care. I just want to collapse on the ground but someone is trying to stop me.

"Get away from the craft.'

"People are still in there."

"The fire."

"Help."

Swearing and crying.

"Will it blow up?"

"What happened?"

"You can't go back in there."

I look back at the craft; it doesn't look like it could ever have flown. No longer sleek and majestic, carrying the tributes to the games, but dented and distorted. Like a drinks can that someone had crushed and tossed aside, there is black smoke coming from one side of it. The earth has been torn up and it's stuck deep in the ground, and bits of twisted metal embedded in the around. In places the walls appear to have been ripped off revealing the bare skeleton, the front has gone, and with it the Capitol minders.

It does not like the odds are in our favour at all.

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Ok first off sorry again for leaving it so long and on such a cliff hanger and without warning. That was a dick move. I'm sorry.  
Secondly I have never been in a plane crash so I have used a little artistic licence here, if you have anything that you think wants changing then let me know, but because it's Capitol technology I am going to say it's been developed differently to out planes etc.

Please R+R and follow and favourite and all that because it was the lovely reviews this got that brought me back and its means so much :)

lots of love


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